The Rise of Green Street
by signalfire263
Summary: Pete Dunham has spent most of his life living in his brother's shadow. But now with a whole new world open to him, Pete finds himself balancing climbing the ranks of the GSE with staying on track at University, a task made even more interesting when Allie Harding comes into his life...
1. The New World

So this is new! I've had this idea in my head for years and thought I'd finally see how it goes. If people hate it then I won't bother carrying on with it but if you like it, please let me know.

Just to note, Intervals is still my main focus and I'll be updating it regularly so don't panic, I'm not abandoning it, this is just an experiment of sorts :) Please read and review, it makes me a very happy bunny.

* * *

**September 2003**

"This place is a shit hole."

Pete Dunham smirked from where he was pinning the last of his posters to the wall, picking out the remnants of blu-tac from under his fingernails and using it to secure the paper.

"I give it a week before you're home,"

"Cheers, Bov," he laughed. "Good to have you on side as usual,"

Picking up one of my few cardboard boxes that he'd managed to empty, he chucked it at the grumpy looking man in the corner, almost knocking him off the edge of the bed.

Given Pete was more or less the only friend Stuart Boverington had, it was no surprise that he hadn't exactly been jumping for joy at the thought of him moving to the poncy part of London just to get a degree he'd never use. Who gave a fuck about history, anyway?

Grabbing another bottle of Corona out of the half empty case on the floor, Pete used his teeth to loosen the cap before taking a long sip and looking around. The first Dunham man to get into University; not bad going, especially considering he'd spent most of his life not being able to do anything right. In the eyes of his old man, at least. Steve, his older brother had always been the golden boy, the one most likely to follow in Daddy's footsteps.

Snorting at the memory of his last night at home in which Steve had stumbled in barely conscious, his eye socket swollen and oozing blood, he had to wonder why.

"I'm just saying, mate," Bovver shrugged snatching the bottle from his hands and downing most of the beer in one. "Even Steve thinks this is a fucking daft idea,"

"Well Steve ain't here, is he mate?" Pete asked him in a mocking tone. "None of 'em are, and to be honest, I'm fucking happy as a clown about it."

Catching the look on his old friend's face, he sighed, resting against the wall and looking out onto the campus green. Bovver had never been phased by school, even when they were kids. He had never seen the point in sitting there day after day when he could be out playing footie and earning the old pound here and there. For a while, Pete had admired him for it and even thought about life in the same light. That was until his Dad died.

And suddenly it all became clear. People who chose that life, they didn't live, they just existed. His Dad's existence had consisted of drinking, fighting and beating the shit out of Pete and sometimes his Mum. But never Steve. Glancing down at the scar on his hand, one of the many he had acquired in his time at home, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, fighting to keep his temper in check.

Steve hadn't said a word to him when he got his exam results. First in his class in history, English and sport.

But it still paled in comparison to being the Major of the GSE. Everything did. But that wasn't for long.

Pete had only been to a few meets so far, his brother making a point of humiliating him at every single one; at the last one between the GSE and the Yids, Steve had even socked him one on purpose, claiming during the fight everyone looked the same.

Pete knew damn well that wasn't the case; it was all to prove a point. And as much as he loved his brother, he wasn't the only one with a point to prove.

"Bov, nothing's gonna change, mate," Pete told him honestly. "I'm 'ere for most of the week, I'll be back at home on the weekends. We can go out down the Abbey, see the Hammers..."

Leaning down, he clapped the scruffy dark haired man on the shoulder and smirked.

"Trust me, mate, there's nothing gonna get in the way of us getting into the GSE." he nodded firmly. "Nothing."

* * *

"How many fucking shoes do you need?"

Allie Harding lifted her head from the stack of clothes she was trying desperately to fit into the tiny wardrobe in her room and bit back a laugh.

"I brought the bare essentials," she shrugged evenly.

Picking up what looked like a spiked torture device and squinting at the words "Christian Louboutin", Harry Harding shook his head and tossed it back into the large box, more than willing to give up for the time being.

"I'll bet," he snorted. "Are we having pizza or what?"

"Jesus Christ," Allie blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Pizza was a reward for helping me get settled. Bitching and moaning and trying to chat up everything that walks past the door in a skirt does not qualify as helping,"

"I beg to differ," her brother smirked, holding up the three phone numbers he had managed to score in the last half an hour.

"Harry," Allie warned him in a tone that she had inherited directly from their mother. Remembering her not for the first time that morning, Allie glanced at the photo on the windowsill; it had been the first thing she had unpacked. The woman smiled back at her warmly and her breath caught.

_Time heals all, my arse, _she thought bitterly.

"Alright," he conceded. "How about we go for one slice of pizza and a beer, then I'll come back and put your bookshelf up?"

"Don't forget mine," a voice piped up from the doorway. "And my new dresser,"

Snorting at Lara Knight as she waltzed into the room, all auburn waves and flowery perfume, Harry shook his head.

"You can piss right off," he told her. "I've got better things to do than be at your beck and call for the rest of the day,"

Lara flopped down on Allie's bed and smiled sweetly at him, reaching out to pat his knee.

"Oh sweetheart, now we both know that's just not true,"

Allie grinned at the red head who had been her best friend since they were 5 and in the same ballet class together; their mothers had put them together as a last resort. Allie and Lara were the only children who didn't seem to know the meaning of quiet so they became the trouble makers at the back of the hall. But at least they had each other for company.

"She has a point, brother," the blonde nodded. "And besides, you're hanging out with the two best looking girls on campus, where else do you need to be?"

"That was rhetorical," Lara warned him, sitting up and frowning at the ceiling. "What the fuck is going on up there?"

Allie sighed and rolled her eyes, reaching into one of the bigger boxes and pulling out several cushions, throwing them onto the bed with growing force as the series of bangs coming from the floor above seemed to get even louder. They'd started about 20 minutes ago and showed no sign of dying off.

"No idea," she shrugged. "Either someone is having the best sex of their life or they're dropping rocks on the floor!"

She shouted the last sentence, hoping the culprits would hear it and cease their racket but alas all she heard was the distinct sound of male laughter and then the loudest bang yet.

"Fuck!"

Harry practically jumped out of his chair, slightly concerned the ceiling might actually cave in.

"So my neighbours are going to be fun," Allie laughed.

"It's a guy," Lara told her, her golden eyes twinkling. "Maybe he's hot,"

"I doubt it," the blonde snorted, grabbing her purse and deciding that maybe now was the time for pizza after all. "Anyone who makes that much noise is going to be a total arsehole, mark my words."

* * *

"Fucking hell, easy mate!" Bovver laughed as Pete kicked the football towards him, wincing as it slammed into the wall behind him, hard enough to send a few CD's flying off of the shelf.

"Don't be such a tart," Pete laughed, balancing the ball on his foot and with a flick of his ankle, balancing it on the back of his neck. "I guarantee you we're making the least noise of anyone here,"

Noticing the slight dent in the wall that he was certain hadn't been there when he had moved in mere hours ago, he winced. Ok, maybe not.

"Saying that, maybe we should just head out for a beer," he nodded to himself. "Be rude not to."

Bovver sighed; the last thing he wanted to do was sit in some poncy university bar listening to twats in berets talking about politics and poetry and shit. But he owed it to Pete.

"You're paying," he told his friend gruffly.

"Fuck off,"

"I helped you move all your shit across London,"

"You carried one box and dropped it on the fucking stairs."

"Christ, you educated lot don't half moan, do you?"

Pete frowned at him, catching the slightly seriousness in his tone. He didn't want to fall out with Bovver, the guy was as close to him as his own brother but these little comments had to stop.

"Mate…"

"I knew I should 'ave gone to community college with the rest of the retards," a voice shouted from across the hall. "I went into the bar and you know what was on the tv? Fucking cricket! What kind of establishment is this? Hammers are playing tomorrow and if they don't show it, I'll fucking throw a tantrum like they've never seen."

Pete watched as the slightly chubby guy slammed his bedroom door and leant against it.

"Nah, I know, I just…alright, fucking hell! …Sorry. Yeah, bye mum."

Glancing at the two men staring at him with a mixture of amusement and intrigue, Swill shoved his phone in his pocket and smirked.

"Any chance I can convince you that was my missus who works for Victoria's Secret?"

Pete laughed, slightly surprised when he saw Bovver doing the same. Sociable wasn't exactly Bovver's style.

"Fair play for trying, mate," Pete smirked, leaning forward. "They seriously showing cricket in the union?"

Swill eyed the two men warily, they didn't look like the posh type but you couldn't be too sure at University. He'd learned that the hard way when the long haired blonde in the elevator with the decent arse had turned out to be called Mike.

"If you want to talk stumps and runs, I ain't your girl," he informed them. "Footie or if I'm drunk enough, rugby…and tennis." He smirked. "That Kournikova bird is fit as fuck,"

"You're safe on that front, mate," Pete told him. "Hammers boys, through and through."

At that, the young man's face lit up and he reached out, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Well fuck me, 'bout time I met someone normal in this shit heap," he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shoved one in his mouth, holding out his hand. "Sim…-Swill." He caught himself. "Swill,"

Not questioning the nickname, Pete shook his hand and laughed.

"Pete Dunham," he cocked his head in Bovver's direction. "This miserable fuck is Bovver."

"Dunham?" Swill raised his eyebrows. "Well fuck me, that don't half ring a bell."

Lowering his voice, he met Pete's blue eyes seriously.

"As in…Stevie Dunham's brother?"

Snorting, Pete shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. Trust Steve's reputation to follow him here of all places.

"You're a true Hammer then, yeah?" Pete nodded.

"'Till I die," Swill grinned, yanking his shirt aside and revealing the edge of a West Ham crest on his chest.

"Christ," Bovver stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "I think this calls for a beer, don't you son?"

Pete raised an eyebrow, not wanting to mention that his tone had suddenly changed. Whatever it took to get his best mate to stop sulking like a bird, he was fine with.

They started down the hallway, navigating the onslaught of students carting boxes and suitcases up the narrow staircase. Reaching the landing, he glanced out of the window and grinned at his new home for the next 3 years, noting the small group of girls sunbathing next to the fountain.

Oh yeah, he could do this.

"Alyssa Harding, will you hurry your perky arse up!" a voice rang out, silencing most of the hallway. "There are cosmos to be had,"

"Posh birds," Bovver muttered from behind him. "See what you're in for, Dunham?"

Looking the auburn haired girl up and down, Pete smirked. He didn't think that was necessarily a bad thing. Girls certainly didn't look like that down the Abbey.

"Indoor voice," a sweet sounding voice hissed from inside the room. "I've been here 5 hours, I really don't want people knowing about my arse,"

"We're at uni," the red head frowned. "What fun are the next few years going to be if that's your attitude?"

A laugh rang out and Pete couldn't help the smile that spread across his face; slowing down, determined to see what this girl –and her arse- looked like, he frowned when Bovver shoved him forward unceremoniously.

"Watch it, son," Pete told him, stepping around the girl in the hallway and heading down the next flight of stairs. Bovver ignored him and carried on talking to Swill about next week's match between Hammers and United. Truth be told it was playing on his mind as well, but he was slightly distracted at the moment.

Catching sight of a flash of blonde hair, Pete craned his neck, hoping to get a glance of her before they reached the second landing, but no such luck.

Oh well, he thought to himself, no loss. There were plenty of girls here, its not like he had to go for the first one he saw.

But still, something bothered him. Like why despite spending the rest of evening in the pub watching footie, meeting one of Swill's mates and realizing they all had more in common than they had first thought, he couldn't get her laugh out of his head.

* * *

Next chapter...guess who bumps into each other? ;) I'm so nervous about this so please be gentle with your reviews. Lots of love x


	2. Like a Truck

Woo-hoo! Chapter 2! Thank you guys for putting up with this fic, its pure self indulgence :p The reviews made me fall even more in love with you as always, I promise that a new chapter of Intervals will be up tomorrow, I just wanted to get this out of the way for the time being.

El xx

* * *

Harry Harding glanced around him and grimaced, despite being only 2 years older than his sister, he had happily left his university days behind him in favour of money, a job and regular showers. So a crowded bar full of poncey 18 year olds discussing _crime and punishment _and pretending to know what the fuck they were talking about wasn't exactly his idea of a good Friday night.

"You said we were going for pizza," he half shouted over the music that was booming around the three of them as they nuzzled their way through the crowd and towards the bar.

"We are," his sister called back, throwing a grin over her shoulder. "We're just having a few drinks first,"

"Come on, old man," Lara Knight smirked, throwing her arm around his shoulder as best she could from her height. "We'll get you home in time for your bath and stories, don't worry."

"Fuck off," he laughed, shrugging her off half-heartedly and shoving her forward, not entirely offended by the view he had of her backside as he did so. Allie's best friend or not, he was still a man and there was no denying that Lara Knight was a stunner.

Catching the looks a group of guys were shooting in Allie's direction, he gritted his teeth and realised his sister was much the same. Which meant maybe it was a good thing he was with them.

Allie was too sweet, too innocent, too...

"Tequila!" she shouted, thrusting a shot glass topped with a wedge of lemon in his face.

Yeah, he thought with a snort. Sweet and innocent.

Knocking back what he knew damn well would be the first of many shots, he grimaced and coughed, chucking the empty glass onto the bar and shaking his head.

"You know what little sister, if we're going to do this," he pulled out his wallet and handed the barman a 50. "We're going to do it right,"

"We'll take the bottle."

* * *

"So what are you studying?" Pete asked Swill, eyes wide as the man downed what had to be his sixth pint since they had arrived. Christ, he might even be able to give he and Bov a run for their money.

"Maths and economics," he slurred, belching loudly and reaching for another cigarette. "You?"

Pete stared at him, not in the least bit subtle. This was a bloke he'd seen walk into a door twice on the way in without so much as a drop of beer in his system. And he was studying economics.

"No offense, mate," he laughed. "But are you fucking Rain Man or something? Because..."

"Oi, fuck you, Dunham," Swill laughed, taking a long drag of his cigarette and turning his head slightly to blow it in the direction of some yuppies who were focused solely on their conversation about the EU. "What I lack in common sense, I more than make up in other departments."

"If you say so, mate," Pete cackled. "History," he took a long sip of beer. "History and sports science as a minor,"

"Fucking hell, so smart they wouldn't let you just do the one, eh?" Swill rolled his eyes. "You should meet my mate Dave, he's a clever bastard and all,"

"My ears and burning and my throat is dry," a dark haired man appeared behind Swill, slapping him around the head. "Buy me a beer, you slag. You still owe me a good £30 from last weekend and...Dunham?"

Pete looked up and laughed, standing up so fast he nearly knocked his and Bovver's drinks to the floor.

"Well fuck me, of all the ugly bastards to run into," he hugged the other man tightly and slapped him on the back. "Mate, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Getting my money out of this tart for starters," Dave chuckled. "I'm studying engineering, second year,"

"Hold on a sec," Bovver frowned. "You two love birds gonna let us in on how you know each other or what?"

Rolling his eyes, Pete stepped aside, allowing Dave to reach down and shake Bovver's hand. He shouldn't be surprised that Bovver was as hostile as he was being; Pete's mum had always compared Bovver to a terrier mutt. If he didn't know someone, he was wary and he'd bite their hand off quicker than they could blink. It stemmed from his upbringing, that much Pete knew and understood but that didn't mean he had to be such a miserable fuck all of the time.

"Remember when I used to play for St Marks under 16's?" Pete winced slightly, knowing damn well the year he had done so had also been the year Bovver had spent in juvie. "Dave was on the team, his old man used to know mine,"

"That's one way of putting it," Dave snorted and reached over Swill's head to grab his beer, ignoring the younger man's protests as he did so. "Speaking of, I'm uh...I'm sorry, mate. I heard about..."

He trailed off and Pete nodded, wracking his brain for something to say. Everyone knew Michael Dunham had died fighting, sure there were desperate family rumours of illness, even a car accident, anything to avoid the subject of the GSE. But word travelled faster than blood in East London and by the time Michael Dunham had taken his last breath, everyone knew the head of the GSE was cold in the ground and someone had to step in.

"Word on the street is Steve has stepped in," Dave nodded. "Good man, someone needs to keep it up,"

"Speaking of keeping it up," Swill interrupted and in that moment, Pete could have kissed him. The last fucking thing he wanted was to end up talking about Steve all evening. "Fuck me, see this is why I came to uni,"

Pete smirked and followed his gaze to where the red head from earlier was leaning against the bar, her black jeans slung low on her hips as she held a shot glass in the air above the head of a guy who seemed to be trying to coax the glass -and bottle- of tequila away from her.

Wait, if she was here, did that mean...

"Your ass is mine, Knight," he heard a voice hiccup. "Pick your poison, this is far from over,"

Pete felt like a character in the old black and white cartoons he used to watch with Steve when they were kids; he was sure his eyes were bulging out of his head and a sweat had already broken out, making his short blonde hair paste itself to his head.

Attractive, he thought with a snort.

He watched the blonde as she grabbed the red heads hand and twirled her before skillfully swiping the bottle of tequila from her and placing it on the tray of a passing waitress.

Her hair seemed to be about a million different shades, caramel, honey, ash, it all mixed together to make what looked like spun gold. Her eyes he could tell even from this distance were an almost unnatural shade of green, so deep and inviting that he could tell the girl stopped everyone in their tracks as soon as they looked at her. Her full lips broke into a smile and he let his eyes drift lower, over her curves all the way down to her feet which were perched on the highest heels he'd ever seen.

The woman was perfection.

"So what I'm gathering is," Swill pondered out loud. "This side of the river gets the money, the decent uni's and all the fit birds,"

"There's nothing wrong with the birds in East Ham," Bovver scowled.

The three men stared at him as though daring him to come up with a follow up statement.

"Yeah," Pete smirked. "If you want the clap,"

"Forgetting where you come from already, Pete?" his friend spat, perhaps a tad more venomously than he should have.

"Trying to," the blonde shot back.

"Right, ladies, I don't know about you but I am in dire fucking need of a pint," Dave nudged Pete towards the bar, quite happy to get him away from the scruffy looking bloke at the table, who despite being engrossed in conversation with Swill was still staring daggers at Pete.

"What's up with your missus?" he whispered as they neared the bar, both of them ducking to avoid hitting their heads on the low hanging lanterns. "She in the red or what?"

Pete threw his head back and laughed loudly; Dave was a bloody good judge of character, he'd give him that.

"Nah mate, Bov is..." he paused. How the hell did anyone go about defining Bovver? "He's just a miserable cunt,"

That seemed to be enough for Dave who chuckled and tapped his fingers on the bar, somehow catching the eye of the barman who nodded in understanding and went about pouring two beers. Casting a cheeky glance over Dave's head, Pete frowned when he realised the blonde had disappeared. Her friends were still there and from what he could tell, flirting shamelessly.

Good, Pete thought with a smirk. At least that meant the bloke with them wasn't her boyfriend.

_Oh yeah, that makes all the difference, _his brain taunted him smugly, _now you're really in with a chance, _

"So there's a meet this weekend," Dave informed him nonchalantly, handing him a beer and rolling his eyes at the shock on the younger man's face. "Come on, sunshine, you think I didn't know? Everyone knows. Your brother ain't exactly one for subtlety, is he?"

Snorting, Pete took a sip of his beer and nodded.

"So are you going?"

"Fuck me, you're about as subtle as Steve is," he laughed, leaning his elbows on the bar and rubbing the back of his head. "Mate, the GSE is tight as a nuns..." he glanced around and corrected himself, realising he wasn't in the Abbey anymore. "They go into fucking lock down when they've got a meet on, especially with a bunch of cunts like United. Steve ain't exactly Mr. Plan-ahead, he just spots someone and goes for it,"

"So you and Bov..." Dave cocked his head towards the table where Bovver and Swill were scrutinizing the sports page of the newspaper. "You're not..."

"The GSE is Steve's firm," Pete gave him a tight lipped smile. "Until he says otherwise, I've gotta play by his rules...for the most part,"

Smirking, he clinked his glass against Dave's and took a step back, cursing as he hit something, falling back and bringing his beer with him. He tried to grab hold of the back of the chair but instead his hand came into contact with something soft. Unfeasibly soft, like rose petals. Then the smell hit him, Jesus what was that? It was like flowers mixed with something he couldn't put his finger on.

A scream rang out that he fucking well prayed wasn't his as his glass finally tipped mid-air as he knew it would, drenching him in ice cold beer.

The room seemed to go silent as he blinked, ignoring the sting of the alcohol as he wiped his face with his free hand, the other one still clinging onto whatever had stopped him completely falling on his arse.

"Oh my God,"

Oh, fuck.

Those green eyes, that voice, that smell. Of all the fucking people to be walking behind him...

Allie Harding stood frozen to the spot, her mouth opening and closing over and over, making her look oddly like a goldfish. The embellished gold silk vest she was wearing clung to her like a second skin as the beer soaked all the way through and chilled her to the bone. Droplets fell from the tips of her eyelashes and down her cheeks, coating her lips with the taste of stale lager.

Spinning on her heel, she turned to the culprit, her eyes narrowed, mouth open and ready to give him hell. But as soon as her eyes landed on him, she stalled.

He was taller than her, even in her ridiculous heels, bright baby blue eyes squinting at her as he too tried to keep the beer from seeping into them. His blonde hair was almost completely shaved which accentuated his features, the strong nose, the chiselled jaw...those lips...

"I am so, so bloody sorry," he told her, finally breaking both of them out of the staring competition they had going.

"Huh?" she didn't look away from his eyes. Oh my god, the man was gorgeous! "Um..."

The door to the bar opened, bringing with it a cold September draft which upon hitting her skin, brought her back to reality. The reality being beer scented hair and a ruined Dior shirt.

"I'll pay for it," Pete told her, honestly. "The shirt, how much was it?"

Allie smirked. Oh this, she was going to enjoy.

"Fine by me," she shrugged, folding her arms and ignoring the revolting squelching sound it made. "£420,"

Pete's jaw dropped as did Dave's who was, up until that point staring at the two of them with nothing but amusement.

"You fucking what?" he half shrieked.

"Its Dior," Allie shrugged, enjoying the look of distress on his face far too much. "And its one of a kind,"

"Well he should 'ave made more," Pete snorted. "Look love, I can't afford that, how about I buy you a drink?"

Allie raised an eyebrow at him and gestured downward to where a fairly impressive puddle of beer was forming around her.

"Right, probably the last thing you want," he wracked his brain. Truth be told, he could think of a lot of things he wanted to offer her but he was fairly certain she'd shoot them down.

"It's fine," Allie laughed, shaking her head. "Really, it's just a top…"

_Just a top?! _Her brain screamed at her _since when the hell did Dior become JUST A TOP?!_

Letting her eyes sweep over his body, the grey t-shirt he was wearing now soaked and clinging to what appeared to be a six pack underneath, Allie smirked to herself.

Yeah, it was just a top. She could live with losing a top.

"Tell you what, sweetheart," Dave interrupted, leaning forward. "How about you drop it round tomorrow and he gets it dry cleaned for ya?"

Pete shot a dark look at him and grabbed his arm, hissing in his ear.

"Mate what the fuck are you doing?"

"I think I'm getting a fit bird in your room minus her clothing, now keep schtum, you prick,"

Clearing his throat, Dave pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of his jacket pocket and slapped it against Pete's chest.

"Be a good boy and write your address down on there and…" he waved his hand at Allie.

"Allie," she tried her best not to smile. Oliver Twist accents or not, these guys were hopelessly charming.

"…Allie here will bring the top round to yours and being the gentleman you are, you can get it cleaned up for her."

Snorting, Pete jotted his address down on the crumpled up sticky note, trying to prevent himself from going bright red as he did so.

"That's very sweet of you but it's really not…"

Pete frowned when she ripped the paper out from under his pen, causing him to dig the nib into the wood of the bar beneath.

"12 Ramsay Hall?" She held up the note and raised an eyebrow. "You're the arsehole upstairs,"

"You what?" Pete laughed, unsure if he had heard her properly.

"I live directly under you," Allie smiled sweetly. "What a treat,"

"I was playing footie," he frowned at her. "It's not the end of the world, is it?"

"Tell that to the smashed lamp on my floor," she shot back.

Pete stepped forward, towering over her slightly and fighting back a smirk when she didn't even flinch, if anything, he swore she got up onto her tiptoes as though trying to make herself look more intimidating.

"That one of a kind as well, is it?"

"Hey, you know what, screw you!" she shouted. "I'm not the one smashing things and throwing drinks over people in bars."

"No, but you are fucking yapping on about it," Pete smirked. "Do you want that disco ball you call a shirt cleaned or not?"

Allie's jaw fell open and she narrowed her eyes. That was downright bitchy.

"The only thing I want from you is to keep the noise down and your beer in your glass," She batted her eyelashes at him and put on a baby voice. "If that's not too difficult for you,"

"Listen, Mary Poppins," Pete glared at her, infuriated more so by the fact that she looked even sexier when she was mad. "I've got better things to do than stand here taking shit from you,"

"Call it an elocution lesson," she shrugged, grabbing her purse from off the bar and shaking it to get rid of the remnants of his drink. "Well, riveting as this has been…"

"Daddies credit card ain't gonna empty itself, is it?" Pete grinned at her as her eyes flashed wildly. Jesus, this girl. He could spend the rest of his life winding her up and not getting bored.

"Thank you for this enlightening experience," she told him, walking away only to turn on her heel a second later and smirk at him, squinting at the note she had in her had still.

"Oh and….Pete?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, that infuriating smirk still on his lips.

"Stay the hell out of my way."

Watching her hips sway as she ambled through the crowd, he laughed and dropped his head on the bar, lifting it only when he felt Dave nudge him with a full pint of beer.

"Something tells me, that ain't going to happen, is it?" he chuckled.

"What's that?" Pete took a long sip and sighed, deciding this would be the first of many.

"You staying out of her way," he cocked his head to where Allie was pulling her damp hair up into a messy bun, the tendrils dangling around her neck teasingly.

"Not a chance, mate," Pete grinned broadly. "Not a fucking chance,"

* * *

Oh come on, you didn't think I'd have them fall straight in love all rainbows and love hearts, did you? ;) Flirty, angry Pete/Allie are my fav so you can expect more of this to come.

Leave a review and I'll love you forever and ever x


	3. Strangers in the Dark

So here we go...the aftermath of Pete and Allie literally bumping into each other for the first time. I'm going to try and juggle this and Intervals at the same time although I must say, this is definitely my guilty pleasure at the moment, I'm having a lot of fun writing a stress free, younger and flirtier Allie/Pete. ;) So as always, read, enjoy and let me know what you think.

El xx

* * *

"I'm west ham till I die...I'm west ham till I die...I know I am, I'm sure I-..."

"Oh Christ, that's fuckin' rotten that is," Pete laughed as Swill bent over mid-song and vomited onto the pavement. The four of them had only just left the bar; glancing at his watch and noting it was 3.20am, he snorted. So much for an early night.

He, Swill, Dave and Bovver had spent the night talking about the GSE, making plans as to how they could tag along on Saturday without Steve throwing his weight in and stopping them or worse, lamping them himself. Unconsciously running his finger over the faint scar on his forehead, Pete laughed to himself. He knew all too well how that felt.

"Told you you couldn't handle 9 jager's in a row, you tart," Dave laughed, clapping Swill on the back and pulling him upright. "You can crash at mine, one of the birds I live with did some shopping today so I know for a fact I've got some decent nosh waiting,"

"I might get in on that," Bovver piped up from where he was desperately trying to light his cigarette without the wind blowing it out.

Pete raised an eyebrow at him but didn't say anything; its amazing how given Bov had hated the idea of Pete being at university and now he was all for it. Knowing better than to say anything, he simply nodded.

"You sure you don't mind housing these two twats for the night?" he asked.

"You not coming back n'all?" Dave frowned. "I've got the PS2 all fired up and enough bacon to give Swill a coronary..."

"Nah, you're alright," Pete laughed. "I've got to unpack the rest of my shit and get a proper nights kip, I've got to 'ave lunch with my mum tomorrow..."

"She fit?" Swill slurred causing the rest of the boys to piss themselves laughing.

"You're wrong," Pete pointed at him, walking backwards across the green and sending them a small salute. "I'll see you girls in the morning,"

Strolling back towards his building, he shoved his hands into his pockets and watched his breath dissipate on the air. The lights on the large fountain in the centre of the green cast a warm glow over the water that trickled down into the large pool underneath.

Classes didn't start for another few days but he was way ahead of all the reading anyway so it wasn't worrying him. What was worrying him was that bird from upstairs. The one with the mouth.

Smirking to himself, he flexed his fingers inside of his pockets, frowning when he realised he couldn't feel his keys; fuck, what had he done with them. Stopping dead, he remembered lending the bottle opener key ring on them to Swill to had stolen a few bottles of Corona from outside the bar for the "long walk home."

"Bollocks," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head and flopping down on one of the benches outside the large building. Resting his head back, he stared up at the clear, frosty sky and sat up quickly.

He'd left his window open.

"Dunham, you fucking genius," he laughed to himself, running over to the side of the building that had a large black drain running up the side of it. If he could get up high enough, he knew with his height, pulling himself up through the window frame would be a piece of piss.

Grabbing onto the drain, he lodged his feet into the narrow slats of the brickwork and began pulling himself up; thank fuck he was actually bothered about his fitness, if Swill or even Bov had to do this, he didn't doubt they'd be in the morgue by sunrise.

Still though, his arms ached as he hauled his weight up, occasionally glancing down and grimacing somewhat.

There wasn't a lot that phased him but it was a well known fact that Dunham's didn't cope well with height.

"Don't be such a pussy," he scolded himself, grinning when his fingers grazed the edge of the window pane. "One...two...three..."

Grabbing on tightly, he launched himself upwards and practically fell in through the open window, landing less than gracefully on the floor, snagging the palm of his left hand on a lose nail in the floor boards. Hissing at the pain, the scent of perfume filled his nose and he frowned. It was like cinnamon and roses, sweet and flowery all at once. Either his mum had put a cheeky bottle of Febreeze in one of his clothes boxes or...

It was then he heard the floor boards creak and glanced up, seeing a shadow right in front of him, its stance was wary and he could tell from their sudden stillness that they knew that had been spotted.

"What the fuck are you doing in my room?!"

Their voices overlapped as they spoke the same words at the very same moment and Pete frowned, wincing at the scream she let out right before something hit him hard on the back of the head and then it all went black.

* * *

Lighting the last of the cinnamon scented candles along her dresser, Allie Harding sighed at her reflection and sat down on the stool, reaching for her face wipes and going about the arduous task of removing her mascara.

She hiccupped lightly and grimaced at the taste of jager still on her tongue.

"Never again," she told herself, tossing the grubby wipe into the bin and reaching for her bottle of face wash. It was the one her mum used to use and the smell of it never failed to bring her back to a much happier time. Just a few years ago.

Hugging the glass bottle to her chest, she bit her lip, wondering what her mother would be doing if she was here. Making sure she had all the little girlie bits she needed for her room, helping her organise all her books and photos on the wall.

Shaking the depressing thoughts out of her head, she stood and made her way to the little en suite just off the side of her room; it was about the size of her actual shower at home but she adored it already. Reaching into the shower, she turned on the taps and shed her clothes, peeling off the beer soaked camisole she was still sporting with disgust.

That man...

Her eyes flashed in the mirror and she shook her head violently. What an arsehole. First he smashes her lamp, then he ruins her shirt, then he has a go at her? As if he knows her! She recalled his infuriating smirk and began brushing her teeth harder than she should have. God he was annoying, that stupid bloody smirk.

_not to mention his eyes, _her brain teased her, _and those lips, and those hands...and lets not forget the muscles..._

"Shut up," Allie muttered at her reflection, spitting the last of the toothpaste into the sink and rinsing it down.

She didn't want to think about him anymore, he was a pompous, arrogant, annoying prick and she couldn't care less if he thought she was a spoiled brat or not. Because she didn't think about him at all. Not. At. All.

Stepping out into her bedroom and bringing a cloud of steam with her, she frowned at the darkness; crap, the candles had gone out. She must have been in the shower for a lot longer than she meant to. Shrugging, she pulled her towel tighter around her and flicked off the bathroom light, squinting into the darkness. Before she could take another step, her breath caught in her throat.

There was a hand on her window ledge. She watched in horror as the fingers flexed and a second hand appeared, the shadowy figure that followed pulling itself up and into the room.

Clapping a hand over her mouth, she screamed inwardly. Oh my God. Trust Alyssa Harding to get fucking murdered on her first night at University. Glancing to her left, she spotted the shower curtain rail standing against the wall. It had fallen down earlier in the day and she had placed it there, meaning to fix it later. Not making a sound, she reached down and wrapped her slender fingers around it, bringing it close to her side and biting her lip hard enough to taste blood.

Tip-toeing into the room, she watched as the human heap on the floor began to move.

"Please don't let me die like Drew Barrymore," she whispered to herself, remembering the first scene in Scream that had haunted her since the night Lara had forced her to watch it back when she was going through her Skeet Ulrich phase.

The lump lifted its head and she could tell it was a man, he seemed to be looking around...oh fuck.

He was looking at her.

"What the fuck are you doing in my room?" she screamed, jumping at the sound of his voice overlapping with her own.

Without giving herself another moment to think, she raised the shower rail above her head and brought it down blindly, hearing a faint grunt followed by a thud.

Reaching out blindly, she flicked the light switch in a panic, keeping hold of the metal rail in her hand just in case.

Her eyes widened as she stared down at the floor where Pete Dunham lay semi-conscious on his back, blood trickling down his forehead.

"Oh shit," she whimpered. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Bending down, she dropped the shower rail, letting it clatter to the floor as she let her hands hover over his head, unsure whether to touch him. Was he even alive?

"Ok," she breathed. "I need you to be alive because I'm too dainty for prison and I've already paid three months rent on this place..."

Standing, she let out a long breath and then reached out with her foot, poking his shoulder sharply with a dark purple toenail. He didn't stir so she pulled her leg back and kicked him a little harder, wincing when her toe bent back.

Looking down at him, she realised his eyes were wide open, that bloody smirk back on his lips.

"You're alright," she gasped.

"More than alright," he cocked his head and sat up on his elbows. "You do realise I can see right up that towel, don't ya?"

Standing up straight, Allie glared down at him, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled for words; who the hell was this guy?

"Don't have a coronary, I'm kidding," Pete laughed, wincing as he touched the back of his head and felt the bump forming already. "Fuck me, you go around lamping everyone with metal rails or am I just your favourite?"

"What the hell are you doing sneaking into my room?" she shrieked, grabbing her dressing gown and wrapping it around herself tightly. "Are you bloody crazy?"

"I thought this was my room, alright?" Pete shook his head as he clambered slowly to his feet. "I lost my keys and thought I'd get in through the window and the next thing I know you're shoving a fucking pole in my head."

"If you want an apology, you'll be waiting a seriously long time," she shot back at him, noting for the first time just how tall he was as he stood up, his huge frame seeming so out of place in her room.

"The only thing I want sweetheart is a lie down..." he took a step forward and felt his stomach turn, his chest tighten. Oh crap, he knew that feeling.

"Well you can piss off back to your own room because you're not staying..." Allie watched as he crumpled down to the floor and this time showed no sign of getting back up any time soon. "Here."

Great. Just fucking great.

* * *

Chapter 3 is ready to go so be nice and I might just post it tomorrow ;) xx


	4. Its all in my head

Allie pounded her fist on the chipped wood as hard as she could without drawing blood; noticing the small splinter sticking out of her middle finger, she realised it may be too late for that. Frowning, she carried on her assault, smiling apologetically as an unhappy looking guy with glasses stuck his head out of the room next door and glared at her before slamming it with enough force to make the wall shake.

"Lara!" she hissed. "Opening the fucking door!"

Giving up, she turned the door knob and sighed with relief when it opened, throwing herself into the room and directly over the heap of boxes stacked haphazardly behind the door. Trying not to acknowledge the pain shooting through her big toe, she hopped further into the room, noticing the light from underneath the bathroom door.

"Lara!" she shouted. "I need your help, I think I've killed someone!"

"What?" the red head shot back. "Allie, is that you?"

"Well its not the ghost of Christmas past, is it?" she hissed. "Get out of the shower and help me! Or at least give me an alibi?"

"Um..." Lara hesitated. "I uh...I've just put my conditioner in and..."

Allie frowned, looking at the door as though she were insane. What the hell was she doing in there? Starting towards the door, she tripped on yet another pair of shoes, bending down to pick them up, she lifted her arm to hurl one of them at the door when she noticed something was wrong.

Trainers.

Men's trainers.

_Harry's _trainers.

"Ewwww," she dropped the shoe and stared at the door backing slowly out of the room. "Ewwww, ewwww, ewwww, ewwww, ewwwww!"

Hearing her brothers laughter from behind the door, she shook her head and clapped her hands over her ears.

"I hate you both," she called, rushing back into the hallway and slamming the door behind her.

Ok, _that _she could deal with tomorrow, right now all that mattered was Pete. Who may be dead. Or brain damaged.

"As if he wasn't already," she mumbled to herself, stepping back into her dimly lit room and leaning back against the wall.

She had impressed herself with her ability to half drag him across the room and place him on her bed; his legs were too long and hanging off the side, one of his arms dangling down and brushing the door. His eyes were still shut and showed no sign of movement.

"Pete?" she tried meekly. "You ok?"

Rubbing her hands over her face, she grabbed the towel and first aid kit from one of the unpacked boxes and sat down gently on the edge of the bed, careful not to jar him. Tentatively wiping the small smudge of blood away, she couldn't help but notice how good looking he was. Good looking didn't do hum justice really, the man was gorgeous. She'd known that from their exchange in the bar but here, up close, she could really see it.

He was perfect.

_Yeah, until he opens his mouth, _her brain reminded her with a snort.

Peeling open a plaster, she smoothed it over the small cut on the top of his forehead and let her fingers linger there for perhaps a second longer than necessary. What? The guy was an asshole but she was only human.

Standing up, she brushed her hands on her dressing gown and picked up a pair of boxers and her battered Glastonbury t-shirt, diving into the bathroom quickly to change, peeking around the door frame every two seconds to make sure he was still there.

Padding back out, she flopped down on the end of the bed and sighed. So this was her first night at university? Her best friend was shagging her brother and a drunk asshole, albeit a good looking one, was passed out on her bed. Laughing to herself, she stared up at the ceiling and shook her head.

She shouldn't have expected any less.

* * *

Pete blinked a few times and winced as a sharp pain shot down the centre of his forehead and behind his left eye; Jesus, for a tiny little thing, she had some serious muscle to hit him as hard as she did. He wondered briefly if it would need stitches.

Snorting, he pulled himself as upright as he could without feeling dizzy.

"Nah, mate," he told himself. "What you need is a beer, stitches can wait,"

It was then he notices his surroundings; the lilac walls, the long black book case, the candle holders nailed to the walls, the weird looking bottles strewn everywhere, the giant poster proclaiming that everyone should own coco Chanel. Was that a rich kid cereal or something?

The glass beaded lamp next to him cast a warm glow over the room and it was then, glancing down that he saw her.

She was flat out, one arm over her stomach, the other stretched above her head. The t-shirt she was wearing had ridden up slightly, exposing her flat stomach and what looked to be a tiny tattoo low on her hip.

You think you know a girl...

Sitting up and swinging his legs gently off the side of the bed so as not to wake her, Pete caught his refection in the mirror and frowned.

"They were all I had,"

Allie's voice tore him away and he stared down at her from where she lay smirking sleepily at him; oh yeah, that was certainly helping things.

Reaching up and running his fingers over the Spongebob Squarepants plaster, he laughed and shook his head.

"And don't you dare complain," she pointed at him. "You've already put me through enough shit to last a lifetime,"

"You what?" Pete laughed at her. "I'm not the one walking around braining people, love!"

"You jumped through my window at 3am, what did you want me to do? Shine your shoes and make you pancakes?" she caught the smirk on his face and growled. "Don't you dare answer that!"

"So I make an innocent mistake, get knocked out and she's yellling at me?" he shook his head, ignoring the pain that shot through it as he did so. "I should have known you'd be high maintenance as soon as you told me your shirt cost more than my first motor,"

"Hey!" she shouted. "I just saved your sorry arse so how about a thank you?"

"Thank you?" he shouted back. "You were the one who bloody knocked me out."

"You deserved it, you could have been a rapist,"

"I could have been the second coming of Jesus for all you fucking cared, I didn't stand a chance,"

"Well then next time, knock!"

"On what? The floor? The window was open and I thought this was my room,"

"Well then learn to count, because it clearly isn't!"

"Are you done being a princess yet because I really want to get some sleep,"

"Princess?" Allie shrieked. "You break my lamp, ruin my shirt, break into my room, mess up my sheets with your big stupid trainers and I'M being a princess?"

Pete took the opportunity to have a real look around her room, his eyes landing on the book case and widening when he spotted a small worn looking book on the end. He'd know it anywhere.

"And then I have to clean up your blood like some rabid dog that got shot in the street and..."

"Where'd you get that?"

Allie stopped instantly and blinked. His tone was so different she wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

"Huh?" she followed his gaze but was unable to see what he was gawking at.

"That's a first edition CS Lewis," he stumbled over, his feet still wobbly after his knock. Reaching out, he picked the small book up and shook his head. "How the fuck did you get your paws on this?"

He flicked open the first page and a small picture fell out, it showed a young woman, stunning and the spitting image of Allie sat on under a tree with a little girl in her lap, no older than 5. They were both smiling at the camera, all white teeth and glittering eyes. If he didn't know it was so genuine, it would have sickened him to the core.

"It was hers," Allie gestured to the woman in the picture. "My mum,"

"Well do me a favour and ask her how the fuck she managed to pull this one off, because first editions are like gold dust,"

Allie smirked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"You read?"

"Yes," he fought back a laugh, snatching the picture back out of her hand. "Cheeky sod,"

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.." she laughed. It was the first genuine laugh he'd heard from her and he hated what it did to his heart rate. "I just...my mum got me into all the classics, she was the flower power sort, you know, an educated woman is the most powerful kind,"

Pete caught the past tense and instantly felt guilty; looking down at the photo once more, he caught the date underneath it.

_Last summer with mum, 1990. _

"You reckon she was right?" Pete teased her.

"I don't reckon she was wrong," Allie laughed. "Funny thing is, she could get away with murder with her looks, but she never realised it."

"Must run in the family," he smiled at her. A real smile. Her heart thumped and she laughed nervously, taking the picture back from him and sliding it into the front cover once more before place it gently back on the shelf.

"That almost sounded like a compliment," she squited at him. "Christ, how hard _did_ I hit you?"

"Hard enough for me to never try that again." he nodded towards the window. "A rapist, huh?"

"At the very least," she shook her head vehemently causing him to laugh again.

Spotting the smashed lamp on the table next to her bed, he winced and pointed at it, noticing this time when she rolled her eyes, she did so with a smile on her face.

"Its fine," she shrugged, picking it up and waving it in his face. "Its bohemian..."

"Look," he started with a laugh. "If I was a twat..I-..."

"Ok!"

They both turned to stare at the red head who had burst into the room, clutching a bin bag and some air freshener.

"I'm late but I'm here...and as for me shagging your brother...I can explain," she paused. "I shagged your brother."

"That much I got," Allie shook her head in disgust.

"So where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"The dead body," Lara shrieked. "Hello!"

"Uh..." Pete waved at her. "I'm guessing thats me,"

"He's alive," Allie told her.

"Hmmm...you sure?" she grinned at her best friend. "I think one of us should give him CPR just in case,"

"Aaaaand we're done here," Allie ran forward and practically shoved her into the hallway.

"I might be shagging your brother but at least he has a pulse," was the last thing that echoed through the room before the door slammed shut. Allie leaned against it and tiredly ran a hand through her hair.

"Lara," she smiled tightly. "Best friend, sister, royal pain in the arse,"

"I like 'er," Pete laughed. "She's an accquired taste,"

"That's one way of describing her," Allie snorted. "I uh...think you better get some rest," she handed him another spongebob plaster and he laughed. "Just in case,"

"Thanks for..." he frowned. "Thanks,"

"Anytime," she grinned, opening the door for him.

"So do I still have to stay the hell out of your way?" Pete smirked at her.

"Yes," Allie told him deadpan. "You're a liability and also a pain in the arse."

"I'm charming as fuck though," he cocked his head. "I mean, come on..."

"Goodnight, Pete," she laughed, closing the door. "See you around,"

Pete grinned as he started down the hallway, pulling the gold, beer soaked shirt from under his jacket.

"Probably sooner than you think, princess,"

* * *

Aaaand review ;) xx


	5. When Pete Met Harry

So I kind of fell out of love with the idea of this story for a while but now I'm back into it because I miss carefree flirty Pete/Allie too much. Plus being ill means time in bed which means I have zero excuse not to write. So enjoy!

* * *

"So you was in 'er room, on 'er bed...and you _didn't _get laid?"

Pete smirked over his shoulder at Swill and Dave as they sat glued to the N64 at the end of his bed; they had a few hours until the game so they were killing it the only way they knew how: with beer and Nintendo. Glancing at his watch, Pete wandered whether it was worth waiting for Bovver to show up before he ordered pizza, then remembering what a little bitch his best friend could be, he rolled his eyes and decided to wait.

"I was unconscious," he shrugged, opening a beer and perching on the windowsill. "Golden gun," he gestured to the screen, chuckling as Dave got to it before Swill did. "Plus I get the impression she's not exactly that type of bird,"

"Mate, we're at uni," Dave frowned. "Every bird is that type of bird,"

"She brained me with a steel fucking rod," Pete pointed to the cut on his forehead for emphasis. "She's not your standard, trust me,"

"Jesus Christ, Dunham," Swill grinned. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you was getting soft in your old age..."

"..fuck are you on about?" Pete snorted.

"You've got a fucking crush on 'er,"

Pete stared at both men seriously for a moment before straightening up somewhat and focusing more than he needed to on the tv screen.

"Ahhh!"

Both men shouted and clinked their beer bottles together, laughing as Pete blushed and shook his head.

"You can both fuck off and play someone else's N64, go on you pricks," he leaned down, attempting to grab the pad from Dave who held it just beyond his reach and laughed as Swill made kissing noises.

"Oh dear, what will Bovver say?" Swill gasped. "Not going to be happy if someone else starts packing your lunch and kissing you goodbye in the mornings, will he?"

At that, Pete had to laugh; he knew it was true though, Bovver and Allie would get on as well as oil and water. Or maybe the Israeli's and Palestine's. That seemed more astute. There was chalk and cheese and then there was Bovver and Allie.

A sudden pounding on the door interrupted their laughter and Pete rolled his eyes, placing his beer down on the floor and stepping over Dave and Swill who had already gone back to Golden Eye. He knew who it was already. Normal people knocked. Bovver left a fist print in the wood.

"Alright, sunshine?" Pete nodded to him as he stepped back to let him in the room.

"The fuck are you playing at?" Bovver frowned. "You too busy plaiting each others hair to answer your fucking phone?"

"You what?" Pete shot back.

"There's a meet; and we're not just talking some bitch fight like last week." Bovver bounced on the balls of this feet excitedly and rubbed his hands together. "Fucking Yids are in town, mouthing off as usual,"

"And why should I give a shit?" Pete raised an eyebrow. "Give the poor little shits their moment of glory, it ain't gonna last long,"

"Not with your brother on his way down there, it won't,"

Pete stopped dead and stared hard at Bovver, trying to read him and work out if he was telling the truth. Bovver knew that whilst Pete wanted to show his brother what he was capable of, he was also wary of stepping on his toes. Much like their father, Steve wasn't a man you wanted to piss off.

"Nah, bollocks, he would have said something," Pete shook his head and crossed his arms firmly.

"You fucking reckon, do ya?" Bovver snorted. "Pete, he thinks you're a fucking chump and if you sit here with these tarts all afternoon, then you're doing nothing but proving him right,"

Pete clenched his jaw and took a step forward, not at all surprised when Bovver took a slight step back; as much as he loved him and thought of him as a brother, Bovver had a tendency to cross the line. And as he had done a few times in the past, Pete had no issue with smacking him back over it.

"Dave," he spoke without turning to face him, his eyes dangerous and dark still trained on Bovver's rapidly paling face. "We might need to borrow your car, mate. Seems we've been invited to a party,"

* * *

Rolling her eyes at what had to be the fifth wolf whistle since she had entered the building, Allie Harding began climbing the stairs, sighing when her bag starting emitting the unmistakable chords of "Like A Virgin."

"Dammit, Lara," she muttered, blindly searching through her treasured Chanel to locate her phone and laughing in defeat when it rang off just as she answered it. "Dad," she shook her head.

Noting the 6 other missed calls she had from him she frowned and pulled her keys from her purse, arriving at her door and stopping when she noticed it was slightly ajar.

Gulping, she nudged it open with her toe and peered in, clutching her chest when her father appeared waving what appeared to be a pillow case.

"I heard you have a tendency for knocking out strangers you find in your room so consider this me surrendering," he closed one eye, peeking at her in feigned fear.

"You should never listen to campus gossip," she smirked at him.

"I got it from a reliable source," Richard Harding frowned defiantly.

"I don't doubt that for a second," Allie laughed. "Although I bet that source isn't as forth coming about his own behaviour the other night,"

"Some things are best swept under the rug," her father wrinkled his nose. "Then its best to burn the rug and scatter its ashes in a remote patch of ocean or desert where it can't hurt anyone,"

Laughing, Allie ran to him and enveloped him in a hug, flipping her brother the middle finger over his shoulder, noting he had made himself very comfortable on her chez long.

"Can you get your hooves off of my sofa?" she grumbled.

"I would if I could," he answered her, eyes wide and innocent.

"Bastard," she laughed, pulling away from her father and straightening his tie. "So come on, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well I thought I'd take you out to dinner as I'm going away for a bit after my birthday next week," he winced and she laughed, shaking her head, knowing that tone all too well.

"How long this time?" she raised an eyebrow as she flopped down cross legged on her bed.

"Four months," Richard cringed at the look in her eyes. "But then I'm back for the rest of the year,"

"Hey," Allie smiled at him. "You know I'm all for you saving the world, Batman. Just be safe," she fought to cover the sadness in her voice as she stood up again and reached for her purse. "So come on, lets get me fed, this whole student thing is making me waste away,"

"I was actually thinking you look a little paunchy," Harry smirked at her. "Just you know...around the..." he gestured to his waist then froze, knowing from the look on his sister's face he had gone too far. No one could play a game of "screw you" quite like Allie.

"Harry slept with Lara," she casually chirped, opening the door and gesturing grandly for her father to step through it but the old man was too busy staring at his son in horror.

"Lies and slander, old man," Harry clapped him on the shoulder and smirked. "Don't believe a word of it,"

"Jesus Christ, what did I create?" Richard rubbed his eyes.

"A demi God," Harry responded dead pan.

Allie laughed in spite of herself and closed the door firmly, stepping out into the hall and leading the way towards the stairs, stopping dead when she saw Pete at the end of the hall. He looked deep in thought, stressed even, his brow furrowed as he listened to what three other men, one of which she recognised as his friend Dave, were saying. His eyes shot up as though sensing her there and she felt her breath catch when the fierce look in them softened instantly.

She smiled nervously and raised her hand in a small wave, hating the way her fingers shook as she did so. Jesus, he's just a guy, its not like he's gorgeous or charming or has the body of...

Shut up. She snapped at herself internally.

"Awwwww, don't tell me you've made a friend," Harry rested his chin on her shoulder and grabbed her hand, raising it above her head and waving it manically.

"I swear to Christ, I will cut the breaks in your car," she hissed.

"As if you'd know where to find them," he smirked at her, pushing her to the side and extending his hand. "Hi there,"

"Oh my god," Allie groaned, looking at her father pleadingly and rolling her eyes when she noticed he was regarding Pete like a lion with a gazelle. Ah, of course, he was a male. Allie was a female. This didn't bode well for the over protective father.

"We met at the bar the other night but I didn't get to introduce myself," Harry grinned. "Harry Harding,"

"Pete Dunham," Pete smirked in return. Posh or not, there was something alright about this bloke.

"Harry," Allie hissed, yanking his arm and meeting his eyes with a deadly gaze. "If you're done with your Asperger's outbreak for the day, can we go?"

looking up at Pete, she smiled softly. "I uh...sorry about this one," she paused and narrowed her eyes. "Hey, the cuts healed, seems my spongebob first aid kit was worth the £3.99."

"That the cost of keeping my brain from coming out my skull, is it?" Pete pursed his lips. "Must have been the quality of the nursing that did it,"

"A compliment and I didn't even give you a sticker or a lollipop for not crying," she laughed. "I'm impressed,"

"I think if anyone was going to end up with something to suck on, he would 'ave preferred it to be you," Swill muttered just loud enough for the boys to hear.

Pete casually adjusted his jacket, elbowing him hard in the ribs as he did so and shutting him up before Allie could ask any questions.

"So you go around smashing people's craniums in with shower rails and I'm the one with a mental problem?" Harry goaded her. "Well as way of an apology, fancy joining us for dinner?"

Allie stared at her brother in horror, unable to believe he was capable of such evil.

"We're on our way out," Bovver answered before Pete could speak, ignoring the very annoyed look his friend shot in his direction.

"Well," Richard stepped forward. "Any chance I can tempt you to attend an old man's birthday party instead? Free bar, free food, every student's dream and it would be lovely to get to know Allie's friends,"

Allie stared at Pete, her eyes wide and he fought the urge to laugh; she looked helpless. Truth be told, he was petrified at the idea of socialising with her family, he didn't need to look at outside to see the Bentley parked on the lawn to know that they had more money than he'd had hot showers in his life.

"Count me in," Swill weaved his way to the front of the group and held his hand out to Richard. "I'm Simon Wilkins...the third,"

Allie laughed and shook her head.

"Actually his name is Swill," she smiled at him. "That's Dave and this young man behind Pete is..."

"Bored," Bovver pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one. "Are we done here or what?"

Pete scowled at him dangerously and shook his head slightly, letting him know that he certainly hadn't heard the end of this.

"We'd love to, Mr Harding," Pete shook his hand and smiled at Allie, sending her a small wink and smirking when she blushed.

"Bloody hell, Richard," he shuddered. "I'm trying to play down the aging process,"

"Going well is it?" Pete quipped.

"Cheeky bastard," Richard laughed. "I'll see you on Friday,"

"Come on old man, tally ho!" Harry jumped on his fathers back and steered him towards the elevator.

"Will you get off of me before I bloody catch something!"

Allie dropped her head into her hands and took a deep breath before composing herself and looking back at Pete who was to his credit, laughing.

"I am so sorry," she laughed. "My family...I'm pretty sure my father is on day release from somewhere and my brother is a dick,"

"Nah, I thought they were alright," Pete grinned. "Not every day some bloke with a Bentley invites you to a party. Not without wanting a piece of this in return," he gestured to his body and she laughed again, her body language relaxing somewhat.

"You really don't have to..."

"I'll see you Friday," he told her with a firm nod.

Allie stared at him for along moment, trying to work out what the hell this guy was about. She couldn't tell if he was trouble with a capital T or not. All she knew was that despite the fact he was obnoxious, idiotic and unfathomably annoying, she hadn't been able to get him out of her head for the last week .

"Ok," she turned slowly, shyly, wanting to say something suave but ok was pretty much all she had.

"So is this a date?"

She stopped dead, just before she got to the stairs where she could still see her brother and father a few flights below battling to stay upright.

"A what?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm guessing I'll need to wear a suit, probably buy you a drink...sounds like a date to me,"

Allie laughed and tapped a fingernail against her teeth as though feigning contemplation. He'd had the upper hand for so long, it was nice to make him sweat for a change.

"We'll see, shall we?" she bit her lip. "We'll see,"

Pete watched her descend the stairs and grinned to himself.

"Mate, you are proper fucked," Dave told him with a shake of his head. "And I mean proper fucked,"

"You know what, mate?" he laughed. "I really fucking hope so,"


	6. A Rush Of Blood To The Head

**So here I am...back to loving this story again, in fact this is the first chapter I got really into writing so I hope you guys enjoy it. You get to meet a character who I've missed writing so much. And as a tid-bit, the story at the end that said character is involved in actually happened to me. One word: Coldplay. Hahaha. Please read and review, you know how happy it makes me. And thank you a million times over for your gorgeous words on the last chapter of Intervals. I love you all muchly, Ella. xx**

* * *

"Just how far out is this shit hole?" Swill grumbled, fighting to light his cigarette in the harsh winds that had been whirling around them since they stepped off the train.

"We're nearly there," Pete told him, pulling the collar of his coat up high enough to cover his ears. The streets around them were deserted, too deserted for his liking. Reaching down into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and checked it quickly, still nothing from Steve. Not that he was expecting to hear back from his brother at any point. Bovver had been right about one thing, Steve had no time for Pete when it came to the GSE.

"Still ain't heard from him?" Dave asked quietly, blowing into his hands to try and heat them up. "Steve?"

"Nah mate," Pete shook his head. "Something tells me he's probably got his hands full."

"Which means we're already late," Bovver snapped, walking faster and slightly ahead of them. "If you hadn't spent so much time talking to that bird in the hallway we would 'ave been here..."

"About 3 minutes earlier," Pete finished for him, throwing a dark look his way. "Give it a fucking rest, Bov,"

Before he could snap back at him, a bottle flew in front of them, smashing against the wall and causing them to stop dead. The shouts hit them first, voices layering over one another, getting louder and louder as they walked with trepidation down the small alley that led to the canal at the end.

Bovver jumped from side to side and sniffed hard at the icy air before breaking into a run, frowning when Pete's hand shot out and grabbed his arm.

"The fuck are you playing at, mate?" he snapped. "You don't just want to go fucking diving into that,"

"Why not?" Bovver shouted. "One of us has to grow some balls,"

"You fuckin' what?" Pete got in his face, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously. "You'd better step back son, before one of us does something we regret,"

"Uh...boys," Dave cleared his throat. "I think we've got some admirers."

Pete tore his eyes away from Bovver's and saw the small group of guys down the end of the alleyway that had turned their attention to them, a smirk playing on the lips of one of the larger blokes.

"Oi, oi," he laughed. "Tell me that ain't baby Dunham,"

"Ah, fuck," Pete threw his head back and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Who're these tarts?" Swill frowned, peering over his shoulder to see what was happening.

"Petey Dunham," Terry Davis laughed, reaching out with a large hand and clapping him on the shoulder. "Fuck me, to what do we owe the pleasure. Bringing Steve his pack lunch are you?"

"Fuck off," Pete smirked. "I'm actually here to bail him out, that is if he's still conscious."

"Oh he's conscious, alright," Terry kicked the flecks of broken glass on the floor. "And he ain't exactly gonna be jumping over rainbows when he sees you lot here,"

"Well don't tell 'im," Pete shrugged. "Let him find out the old fashioned way,"

"And what's that?"

Pete didn't answer him, instead pushed him to one side and slammed his fist into the face of the guy that had been running up behind him. The pain shot through his knuckles as it had done all the times before when he had taken on his Dad or Steve himself. The bloke fell straight away, out cold, blood trickling from his lip and nose.

"Fuck me," Terry stared down at the guy, his eyes wide. "You sure about this, mate?"

He turned to face Pete but saw he had already broken into a run, headed straight for the fray before them, casually knocking two guys to the ground as he went.

"Oh yeah," Dave laughed as he headed in after him, rolling up the sleeves of his jacket. "He's sure,"

* * *

"Mate, did you see that last punch?" Pete laughed, shrugging off his coat and examining the fast developing bruise on his arm. "What the fuck were you doing? I felt like I was watching a Wham video,"

"How the fuck do you know who Wham are?" Swill shot back as he flopped down on the sofa.

"Your mum likes to listen to them while I do her," Pete grinned, dodging the empty beer can that narrowly missed his head by way of response.

They had chosen Pete's mum's house as a way of escaping before Steve found out they were there and had words; not that Pete doubted for a second that Terry would be shouting his mouth off but at least they got a good few hits in before they had to deal with the Major throwing his toys out of the pram.

The front door slammed and Pete yanked his sweater back on, disguising the bruises on his arms and hoping his mum wouldn't notice the one rapidly making itself known above his eyebrow. Turning to face the living room door, he saw the blood splattered pair of trainers before anything else and instantly his stomach dropped, every muscle in his body tensing.

"Well, well, well," Steve Dunham smirked, leaning against the door frame and casting his eyes over the rabble in his living room. "Terry told me you'd been at the ruck, but I told him, nah. You weren't that stupid. I'd told you, I don't know how many times, Petey, you leave the fighting to the big boys,"

His smirk faded and he met his brother's eyes darkly.

"Turns out you're dumber than I thought. And that's fucking saying something,"

"Give it a rest, bruv," Pete rolled his eyes. "You sound like a right whiney bitch. The crown is all yours, we just helped."

"Helped?" he snorted. "You lot could have brought us down, did you even think about that? A bunch of fuckin' amateurs giving it large at a Yids game, you don't know what you're doing, little brother,"

"Amateurs?" Pete raised an eyebrow. "Listen mate, no disrespect to you but it don't take a fucking master class with Mr Myagi to work out how to punch a bloke in the face. Fuck me, thanks to Dad, I learned that before I could count to 10,"

He wasn't sure how it happened, he wasn't certain he had even blinked but the next thing he knew, Steve had him by the neck, his grip and the look in his eyes anything but playful.

"You talk about Dad again..."

"And what?" Pete spat, fighting to get Steve's hands away. "You were the golden boy, Steve. I sure as shit wasn't and he let me know it every fuckin' day. You think I ain't tough enough to take on the GSE? Fuckin' try me,"

Steve stared at him hard, never willing to admit it but slightly afraid of the look in his brother's eyes. Whilst only 4 years separated them, it had always felt like more because of how Steve mocked him. But Pete had something Steve didn't...there was a passion about him that verged on instability. He wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. And Steve knew that he wanted the GSE. But he also knew the reality of it, the fucking brutality of it, and he wasn't about to let Pete walk into it as though it was nothing.

"You got away lucky this time," he spoke quietly, low enough so the boys wouldn't hear. "But next time you won't be so lucky, Pete. And it ain't the Yids you'll be worrying about, alright?"

Stepping back, he straightened his jacket and eyed the other boys dangerously, snorting when Bovver gave him a look that reeked of arrogance. He always had been a self righteous little prick.

"Take care, girls," he muttered, making his way into the hall and out the front door, leaving Pete staring at his reflection; a bruised man, a determined man. The future Major of the GSE, whether Steve liked it or not.

* * *

"Its not here!"

Allie laughed and popped another Malteaser into her mouth as she watched Lara attack her closet like a wild animal. Her father's party was in a few hours and determined to steal the gold top of Allie's she had been coveting since the moment Allie brought it home, she was tearing apart the house looking for it.

"You didn't leave it at Uni?"

"Lara, I promise you, if its anywhere, its here, I wouldn't brought it home to clean it the night..." she stopped midsentence and frowned, sitting up and placing the box of chocolates next to her on the bed. "Cheeky git,"

"What?" Lara frowned at her, not understanding why she was there grinning like an idiot when somewhere in this city, a poor innocent piece of couture was lost and alone.

"Nothing," she shook her head, pulling herself up right and coming to stand before her best friend, resting her head on her shoulder. "How about this one?"

"How many times do we have to have this conversation, Alyssa?" Lara turned to face her and pointed at her chest. "You have those magnificent works of art and I have what can only be described as Kiera Knightly syndrome,"

"They are not that small!" Allie laughed. "Try it on, the colour will look amazing on you."

"Ugh, whatever," she took the pale green dress out of her friends hands and began tugging at her clothes. The age of dignity when it came to their friendship had ended long ago back during the projectile vomiting incident of '98. "So...Harry was telling me you've got a guest coming,"

"I heard my name?" Her brother popped his head around the large oak door and wolf whistled at Lara.

"You can piss off and I mean now," Allie pointed at him without bothering to turn and look at him. "I'm still annoyed at you,"

"Oh for what?" he smirked. "Getting you a date?"

"Go away, Harry,"

"Fine," he blew Lara a kiss. "See you downstairs, and by the by, red. Your arse looks fantastic in that,"

"I try," Lara pretended to fan herself, giggling as he winked at her and disappeared from sight.

"Do I get any say in this unholy union?" Allie picked up her cat, Malificent and scratched her under the chin, rolling her eyes as the cat fell onto its side as she always did and began purring loudly.

"Not unless you want to trade him for that hunk of rough cut meat you had barely alive on your bed the other night?" Lara winked at her.

"His name is Pete," she laughed. "And no,"

"Well then," she shimmied out of the dress and hung it back in the wardrobe so it was ready for later. "There you go,"

Allie stared at the TV and shook her head, turning up the volume slightly on the news and blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Can you believe these people?" she gestured to the riots footage. "I mean, seriously, get a life,"

"This from a girl who once knocked me to my ass to get a Marc Jacobs handbag?" Lara raised an eyebrow as she perched on the edge of the bed.

"First of all, you should know better than to get in my way," she grinned and threw a malteaser at her head. "But seriously, I mean, this was a football riot. How pathetic can you get?"

"If that was a Prada sale, you can bet your candy ass we'd be doing the same thing," she joked.

"I'm sure," Allie laughed, turning the TV off and swinging her legs off of the bed, making her way to the bathroom and then stopping, turning to face her best friend, nervously chewing on a fingernail. "Do you think I should call him?"

"Who?"

"Pete!"

"Uh oh," Lara bounced on her knees on the bed and picked up the cat, making kissing faces at it. "Allie and Pete, sitting in a tree..."

"You're retarded," Allie laughed, flipping her the finger as she stepped into her bathroom and shut the door behind her.

"K-I-S-S-I-N...Ow! Fucking cat nearly ripped my eye out!"

"You deserve it!" Allie called back, pulling her clothes off and switching on the shower as hot as she could muster. For whatever reason, she knew tonight had to be special. For her dad, for her brothers...for her...for Pete. Resting her forehead against the already steamed up mirror, she sighed and met her own eyes.

"You're screwed already," she told herself. "Completely and utterly screwed."

* * *

An hour.

He had one fucking hour to get ready.

And he didn't own a suit.

"Bollocks!" he shouted, flopping back on his bed. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid as to forget to hire a suit. And something told him this wasn't the type of occasion where he could get away with a Hammers shirt and jeans.

"Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!"

"That's right ladies," a voice boomed from outside his door and he sighed. Not this tit again. "This very hallway was once frequented by Chris Martin of Coldplay, some say that he wrote Clocks in this very room..."

A chorus of ooh's and aah's sounded through the door and Pete scrubbed his face hard with his hands, lurching to his feet and yanking the door open, glaring at the party of wide eyed fresher's peering into this room.

"Right, I don't know where you lot are getting your intel, but its fucked." He shrugged. "The only things in this room when I moved in were a copy of Hustler and what I reckon used to be some kind of fruit, no song sheets, no fucking ode's to depression so do me a favour and FUCK OFF!"

He slammed the door on the fearful looking faces and banged his forehead against it, reaching for the phone in his pocket, hating himself to the point of sickness that he was going to have to call Allie and cancel. What the fuck could he say? Dead pet? Dead family member? Football riot and lack of tuxedo?

He snorted and started searching through the phone book for her number, his thumb hovering above the call button as his mouth went dry and his heart continued to pound in his chest. Just before he pushed it, there was a loud thump at his door. He jumped slightly and wretched it open without looking.

"You've got some fucking nerve, brother," a heavy Scottish accent boomed. "I was onto a good thing there; chicks fucking love Coldplay and I was on the verge of convincing them that this is where the magic happens and you...you had to fuck it up."

Pete stared at the green eyed man for a long moment, genuinely unsure of how to respond. He was Scottish so there was a heavy chance he was on crack. There was no other reason Pete could think of for not beating the shit out of him.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat.

"Me?" the Scotsman asked, his eyes wide. "I'm the poor bastard that's going home sans ass tonight because you couldn't play the game. Come to Uni, they said. Everyone is great, they said. You'll make so many mates, they said."

"Are you having a fucking episode or something?"

"No brother, I'm having a pain in the ass and its taken the form of you," he laughed and shook his head. "Look, I'm sorry, brother. My roommate doesn't speak a word of English and I get piss bored so this is my entertainment. I didn't mean to piss you off,"

Pete regarded him seriously for a long moment and then grinned slightly, shaking his head and holding out his hand.

"S'alright," he shrugged. "You caught me on a fucking bad day,"

"Aye," he nodded. "I know that feeling."

He took Pete's hand and shook it.

"Benjamin,"

"Pete,"

"So now you're not going to stab me, what's got your knickers in a twist," he narrowed his eyes at the bruising on Pete's face. "Ah, never mind."

"Nah," he pointed to his forehead and laughed. "That's none of the problem, mate. Its just a scratch. Problem is I'm meant to be going to this royal fucking shindig and I don't 'ave a suit. So I'm fucked."

Benjamin pursed his lips and squinted, slowly forming a smile.

"I think we might have struck a deal here, Petey Pie," he laughed at the man's face as soon as he gave him a nickname. "I happen to have a fucking fabulous array of suits and you have a plus one..."

"No, I don't," Pete frowned at him.

"Technicalities, brother." Benjamin waved his words away. "Now, as long as this isn't some Talented Mr Ripley scenario, you're welcome to borrow a jacket, on the grounds that you bring me as your date and get me good and liquored up at the bar,"

Pete laughed and shook his head; whoever the fuck this bloke was, he had a way with words. Noting that other than Pete being slightly more toned, they were more or less the same size, he found himself nodding slowly.

"Alright," he clapped him on the shoulder. "But one rule.."

"No cuddling after?" Benjamin raised an eyebrow and Pete laughed louder than he had done in days.

"Fuck off," he shook his head. "Its a friend of mine's party and she's..."

"Say no more," Benjamin held up his hand. "Lucky for you and unfortunately for her, I'm a brunette man anyway." he ignored the hand gesture Pete sent his way and instead gestured for him to follow him out into the hall. "Now lets talk suits, I don't know if you've seen Dumb and Dumber but I have a pastel blue colour that would look fabulous on you..."


End file.
